Blow

The wind blows,
Making big waves,
Pounding
upon the shore.

Fist blows,
Pounding,
Make heart caves,
Emptiness.

Wind blows
pass,
Move on
And die.

Fist blows
Crash.
Will they ever die?
Sigh!

Copyright © 1993 by Al Johnson,
from my poetry book, Writing the Wrongs